Rabbit Warren
by SherlockianWhovian
Summary: Mycroft searches his mind for information crucial to a case and Sherlock gives John some insight into Mycroft's mind.
1. Chapter 1

John arrived home from the clinic with heavy bags of shopping in his hands. He entered the living room and stopped in surprise when he saw Sherlock and Mycroft sat opposite each other in silence.

"Did you bring milk?" Sherlock asked, getting to his feet and making his way over to John.

"Yes." John replied, retrieving the bottle of milk from his shopping bags. He leaned around Sherlock to look at Mycroft, who was sat perfectly still with his eyes closed. "Is Mycroft okay?" he asked his flatmate.

"He's fine. He's doing some research for me." Sherlock replied, waving his hand dismissively and walking into the kitchen with the milk.

"Right..." John muttered under his breath, carrying the shopping bags into the kitchen. He put all of the shopping away before he went back into the living room. He stood awkwardly for a few moments, taking the opportunity to observe Mycroft whilst the man was distracted.

"Stop looking at my brother, John." Sherlock said as he entered the living room and sat down in his chair again.

"Is he in his...mind palace...?" John asked as he sat down at the desk behind Sherlock's chair.

Sherlock scoffed, "Mycroft doesn't have a mind palace. He's boring. He just has a mind map." he said.

John laughed a little, "You have mind palace rivalry?" he joked.

"Of course not, John. Mine is much better than his. There is no rivalry." Sherlock replied, no longer joking.

"How can you be so sure? You've never seen his mind map." John said.

"It's like a rabbit warren in there. I don't know how he finds anything." Sherlock muttered.

"What? How do you know?" John asked in confusion.

"I hypnotized him, obviously. It was an experiment. It was just once, so I don't think he even remembers it." Sherlock replied with a shrug.

"But that doesn't make any sense!" John exclaimed, "If a mind palace is imaginary then how can you see what Mycroft's looks like?"

"One again, John, you astound me with your mental prowess." Sherlock drawled sarcastically, "I had him describe it to me. I would have asked him to draw it, but Mycroft has always been atrocious at art."

John rolled his eyes, "Of course. Obvious." he muttered.

There was silence in the flat for a few moments as both flatmates naturally paused in their conversation.

"Forgive me for being obvious, but if you can just hypnotize him, why do you need him to search through his own mind for information?" John asked.

Sherlock scoffed, "Mycroft would never consent to hypnotism." he said, "Also, his answers would most probably be carefully constructed lies. He has built his mind to withstand interrogation. I doubt even the most sophisticated torturer could get to the truth."

"Yet you managed to hypnotize him?" John asked.

"That was a long time ago, when we were both much younger. I was practicing hypnotism as part of my Psychology A-Level and Mycroft was still working his way up to the top. He didn't need to have strong mental barriers until he reached 30." Sherlock explained.

"Mummy did teach you it was rude to talk about someone behind their back, Sherlock." Mycroft's calm and composed voice said as his eyes fluttered open.

"We're talking about you to your face, Mycroft. You just weren't listening." Sherlock replied.

"Anyway, brother dear, the agent's name was Alexander Hamilton." Mycroft said, "He went rogue during a mission some 20 years ago. He managed to avoid capture through moving countries and changing his name regularly. He was impressive, but he is dead."

"How can you be so sure?" Sherlock asked, writing down the name on his case whiteboard.

"I shot him myself." Mycroft replied, his voice cold and sharp.

"And you're absolutely sure it was him?" Sherlock asked, scrutinizing his brother.

"It was him." Mycroft replied without hesitation.

"Very well, brother, you may leave." Sherlock said, his attention focused on his whiteboard.

"John, I would appreciate it if you didn't repeat what my brother has told you. Some secrets are best kept as secrets." Mycroft said as he got to his feet, swinging his umbrella slightly.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock lay on top of his bed covers that night, thinking about his and John's earlier conversation. Did he still have the skills to hypnotize Mycroft as he had all of those years ago? Would he be able to get through Mycroft's tough mental barriers?

As he considered the task, he began to put together a plan. He wanted to try it, if only to get one up on his insufferable elder brother. The plan would require the utmost secrecy and delicacy if he didn't want Mycroft to realize what he was planning to do. Even he wouldn't deny that Mycroft was a master of deduction so he knew he'd have to be careful not to alert the government official of any wrong-doing.

* * *

"Tea, Mycroft?" John offered, getting to his feet when he saw Mycroft enter with his umbrella in hand.

"Yes, thank you, John. No-" Mycroft replied.

"No sugar, yes, I know." John said with a smile, walking into the kitchen and setting the kettle to boil. He quietly made tea, putting the teabags into the cups before he added the boiling water from the kettle. He waited for a few minutes before he got the teabags out, allowing them to infuse the water with their flavour. He added a little milk to each and stirred before he carried two cups through, one for Mycroft and one for Sherlock. He placed them down before he went back for his own cup.

Mycroft made himself comfortable in John's armchair and glanced over at Sherlock before he picked up his cup of tea.

"No snide comment, brother?" he smirked, sipping at the tea.

"Not today, brother dear, you're not worth the effort." Sherlock replied sarcastically, watching Mycroft drink the tea.

John sat down on the sofa and sniffed his tea a little, "That's not PG. Did you swap the teabags?" he asked Sherlock.

"Yes, they're from a client. Chamomile with just a hint of a sedative. Don't drink it." Sherlock replied to John. He got up from his chair and leaned over to pluck the mostly empty mug from Mycroft's hand.

Mycroft had relaxed considerably into the armchair, the sedative working perfectly on his exhausted body.

"You drugged Mycroft? Why?" John asked, putting the mug down and getting to his feet, "Won't we be arrested for harming The British Government?"

"Don't be ridiculous, John." Sherlock scoffed, "I've not harmed him. It's an experiment."

Sherlock reached forward and took his brother's wrist, feeling his pulse. He withdrew a watch on a chain and began to swing it in front of Mycroft's eyes, perfectly in time with the man's pulse. He spoke quietly, trying to relax and reassure his brother.

"Well that was easy." Sherlock admitted, looking down at Mycroft.

"I thought you said that he has barriers?" John asked, watching Sherlock curiously.

"He does, but clearly they don't stop him from being hypnotized." Sherlock replied. He sat on the edge of his chair and kept hold of Mycroft's wrist, feeling his brother's relaxed pulse.

"So what now?" John asked. He disagreed with Sherlock's actions but he was curious about Mycroft's mind.

"Now I'm going to see if I can get him to tell me something private. A secret, perhaps?" Sherlock replied.

Although the two brothers were always feuding, it was obvious to John how much they cared about one another. Every word that Sherlock spoke was careful and considered. There were no snide remarks and harsh comments now he had Mycroft at his most vulnerable.

It took Sherlock almost 20 minutes to get through Mycroft's tight mental barriers.

"It's exactly as I thought." Sherlock explained to John, "His barriers aren't as effective against gentle hypnotism. They probably work extremely well in a torture scenario. It also seems that he's sentimental. I think he's built a path for me specifically."

"Why would he do that? Surely that's a weakness?" John asked.

"Yes, obviously. Clearly he's not as detached as he likes to believe that he is." Sherlock responded, "Now for the fun part. Tell me a secret, Mycroft, something you've never told anyone."

"I still have a book from Oxford University. I've yet to return it." Mycroft responded, his voice relaxed and lacking any of its usual menace.

John laughed, "That's his most exciting secret?" he said.

"Clearly. Dearest brother, you are far more formal than even I expected." Sherlock said with a chuckle, "Mycroft, tell me what you think of Sherlock."

"Clever. More clever than he realizes. I'm proud of him. I miss being close to him. I regret some of my previous actions." Mycroft responded.

"Sentiment." Sherlock muttered, clearly no longer enjoying himself, "Mycroft, when I count down from 5 to 0 you will wake."

John looked at Sherlock, sensing that his relationship with Mycroft was still a sore subject.

"5...4...3...2...1...0." Sherlock counted steadily, letting go of Mycroft's wrist when he felt his pulse began to rise in tempo.

It took Mycroft a couple of minutes to pull himself from drowsiness and into wakefulness.

"You dropped off, brother. Did we bore you?" Sherlock said, clearing his throat a little.

Mycroft's eyes swept over John, the living room and Sherlock. It was obvious that he immediately knew what Sherlock had done.

"Did you find what you wanted? Did you enjoy playing with me?" he asked, getting to his feet and straightening his jacket.

"No, actually. It turns out that your mind is just as tedious as your personality." Sherlock replied, his tone a little more harsh than he intended.

"I would prefer it if you didn't do that again. If you need information or advice then you need only ask." Mycroft said, walking to the door.

"Leave, Mycroft. I'm done with you." Sherlock replied dismissively.

"Sherlock-" Mycroft started.

"No." Sherlock replied sternly.

Mycroft nodded to himself and left the flat without another word.

John turned to Sherlock, "What was that all about? There was no need to send him away so harshly." he said.

"Sentiment doesn't suit Mycroft." Sherlock replied, "There are far too many old scores for us to be as we were. He should know that."


End file.
